


Kiss

by m0usielous1e



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 18:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12305472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m0usielous1e/pseuds/m0usielous1e
Summary: “Jesus laughed aloud again, then slid his hand along Daryl’s arm to his wrist, and took his hand.”





	Kiss

It was late when Jesus finally returned to the cabin. Daryl had left the party hours earlier, of course, but not because of that guy that had been determinedly chatting up his roommate. Daryl had told him that the pirate costume was stupid. Where had he even found it anyway? Sure the kids had loved it but he could have brought back food.

“You’re still up?” was the surprisingly sober question.

“You’re not wasted?” asked Daryl before he could stop himself. This was why he hated talking. Sometimes his filter didn’t work.

Jesus only chuckled and Daryl looked up. Jesus had removed the long coat with the stuffed parrot on the shoulder but left the hat on. He looked ridiculous and kind of cool but the filter worked for that, thank God. Instead, Daryl asked, “Party’s finally done?”

“Well, yeah, especially since they just noticed how long ago the guest-of-honour ditched,” said Jesus. He smirked and Daryl felt his face and neck grow warm. “Doesn’t matter, we still had a good time.”

Daryl tried to focus on the bolt he was finishing, his second in over three hours. Jesus moved over to his bed to get changed. When he heard the rustle of clothing, Daryl grumbled, “Told you all I didn’t want no party.”

In a whiny voice, Jesus repeated, “‘Told you all I didn’t want no party.’ Well suck it, we’re your friends and we wanted to have a birthday party for you. You even got a nice new book with pictures out of it.”

Daryl turned to glare at him, and damn near cut his finger. Jesus had tossed the hat and was pulling a hoodie over his head. The long expanse of bare flesh made Daryl’s throat go dry. Seeing Jesus in varying states of undress was an inevitable and practically unavoidable part of life in close quarters, but every damn time was like brand new. God, he hoped the other man didn’t know. He would just die.

Jesus shook his hair out of the hood and reached for his belt buckle and Daryl shifted his chair around, the sound echoing through the trailer like a thunder crack. “Sorry,” he grunted, face even hotter and redder than before. 

Jesus did not reply. In another vain attempt to block out the sound of changing, Daryl said, “I was going to ask Rick about the run tomorrow. He didn’t give me any details.”

“That’s because you’re not going,” said Jesus, from the kitchenette this time.

Daryl looked up at him, stunned. “What?”

Jesus looked back at him over his shoulder, long hair cascading golden brown down his back in the lamplight. He smirked at Daryl and said, “Happy Birthday, man. We’re giving you the day off.”

“What?” repeated Daryl, still stunned.

“Yeah,” said Paul, apparently ignoring the barely contained outrage in Daryl’s tone. “You’ve got two days to make up for all the time we missed.”

Daryl’s irrititation dissipated like mist under sunlight. He shrugged and said, “I’m pretty sure it’s not my birthday, you assholes. I just told you guys about this because of the tree. In fact, I know you all only did this as an excuse to drink Gregory’s stash.”

“So? What’s that thing Rick said? ‘This isn’t a democracy”, we decided and you have to live with it. Also, don’t act like your leg hasn’t been bothering you. I know you hate the cane, but it’s pretty hard to run from the dead as it is, do you really want to try from a wheelchair?” At that, Jesus turned to look at Daryl, mug of coffee in hand, eyebrow raised.

Daryl resisted the urge to reach for his left knee. Negan has done a pretty good job busting up his leg the second time they caught him. He would have been nothing but chow if Jesus had not shown up when he did.

Daryl dropped his gaze to the table and tried not to blush. Jesus exhaled heavily, then walked over to the table and sat down. In a too quiet voice he said, “When are you going to let us take care of you? The fight’s over, for now, you don’t need to keep going out there every day. There’s way more of us to do the heavy lifting.”

“I’m not no damn cripple,” Daryl snarled, looking up to glare at him.

Jesus’ cheeks flushed red but he met Daryl’s gaze as he replied, “No, you’re not. Have we ever tried to stop you from going out?”

Daryl had no answer to that so he took up his bolt and knife again. Jesus, having spoken his piece, sat quietly sipping his coffee. Who drank coffee at this hour anyway? Didn’t he have to rest? Rick couldn’t look out for himself and Jesus at the same time. This was why it was a bad idea to let Daryl stay behind. The little shit honestly believed that he was in invincible.

Eventually, Jesus finished his coffee and got up to put away his mug. Daryl fought back a yawn. Now that Jesus was here, it was time to go to bed. Not that Daryl had been waiting up for him, but because with the small trailer, the light would bother him.

Daryl sighed and started packing up the table. Jesus said, “You don’t have to do that. I’m not tired. I’m just going to read for a bit.”

“I can finish tomorrow. I have a whole day now. Besides, you need to sleep, you prick. I’m not having you endangering Rick because you’re sleep-deprived. If the dead don’t get you, Michonne definitely will.”

Jesus laughed and Daryl gave a pleased hum at the sound. Jesus said, “You know I can take care of myself, right? I’m a grown man, not a child, and I know just as much as you guys about out there.”

Daryl said nothing. It wasn’t going to stop him from worrying and he just might start a fight.

Jesus, used to his moods and well-versed in Darylspeak, chuckled and said, “I’m glad you guys have come to consider me part of the family.”

Daryl turned away from him, now thoroughly embarrassed, and muttered, “It’s Rick. He can’t help picking up strays. It’s a bad habit that he’s passed on to Carl, good lord.”

Jesus laughed aloud again, then slid his hand along Daryl’s arm to his wrist, and took his hand. Daryl’s heart short-circuited.

He turned back to Jesus and just stared at him. Jesus, bit back a smile, lifted their hands and pressed a kiss to Daryl’s knuckles.

Daryl watched him, not quite sure what was happening. How had they come to this point? Jesus had never said anything, anything at all about his feelings for Daryl. Daryl tightened his hold on Jesus’ fingers. Jesus gave a little nod, as if confirming something to himself, and leaned in.

In the moment before he met him halfway, Daryl thought, maybe we should talk about this? But then his mouth was against Jesus’ and he slipped a hand into his hair to grab a fistful of dark gold and draw him closer. 

Jesus let Daryl lead at first, soft, tentative pecks as he tried to convey eagerness and conceal inexperience. Jesus smiled against his mouth and tilted his head the other way before slipping his tongue past his lips and Daryl lost all sense of himself.

Either he was a better actor than he thought, or Jesus just didn’t care as he gave Daryl a lascivious swirl of his tongue that made his toes curl. Daryl almost pulled Jesus into his lap, which made him chuckle again and break the kiss to say, “For the record, I’m not trying to get in your pants right now.”

Still high from the whole thing, his heart racing wildly, Daryl blurted, “I am.”

“Oh my god,” said Jesus with a breathy laugh.

Daryl ducked his head into his hands, shame washing away the arousal that had been flooding his veins. Jesus tugged his hands away from his face and dipped his head to kiss him again, with just as much fervour as before. It was slower though, a lazy thing that still set Daryl’s every nerve on fire, no matter how he tried to calm himself. Between one breath and the next, he had Jesus in his lap, with one hand in his hair again and the other inching along his waist to the hem of his hoodie. Daryl wanted to lay Jesus out on the table, even though he was pretty sure the other man would not allow it.

The next time they came up for air, Jesus said, “I really wasn’t trying to get in your pants.”

Daryl dropped his hands to his hips and said, “Yeah, well I’m letting you.” He still couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, but nothing felt wrong. If this was what Rick had meant when it came to him and Michonne, it was finally making sense.

Jesus nodded again and stood up. Daryl tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment but then Jesus took his hand again and pulled him out of the chair.

“Come on, I’ll let you wear the hat. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring at it all day,” he said with a wink.

“You’re the worst,” Daryl groaned, but let Jesus pull him along.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I could not resist. Sorry for the mistakes, wrote this on my phone.


End file.
